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Back Then I Did


Rare bird, back then, what it's like to hear those songs again i never liked to begin with.

Rare bird, my grandma sent me a picture of a rare bird today, that she meant to send to


Me just a bit ago, rare bird, a bird I've never seen before, very rare bird, she didn't want


She didn't want to tell anyone though, because that died too. That rare bird died too.


What's it going to be like then, what it looks like to be looking out at what could be a


Full moon, I don't study those types of things anymore, I don't look at the stars the same


Way. I haven't seen a sunrise or sunset in two years, I used to make a goddamn point.


What's it going to be like then, what it looks like now to me, I can't read. All i do is read.


I couldn't begin to think. Couldn't for a second begin to believe in a thing anyone tells me.


Not online at least. Besides the things in what I read. The mind being peaced. Rare bird.


Rare bird she tells me, lucky to see one she said, rare bird that now is dead, and, then what.


Once there was a bird at my grandmas house who's mate had died, hitting window thin.


My grandma buried that bird somewhere in the yard, and that other bird, his mate, you


Know, she kept showing up for days. Just days and days after looking for her mate, just


Another bird, come to think of it, I buried that bird in the yard. And I kept one of it's


Feather's then for a long time somewhere lost in everything else that I destroyed walking


Through the hallway again just tearing everything down, clearing every shelf, all of every


Single thing, just went to peaces, enjoyed the bit, rare bird, rare bird, what was I even on


About, oh yeah, everything feels off. What will it even be like then, maybe, yeah, then


I will have nothing to complain about, yeah, and then I can forget, yeah, and I will write


Beautiful poetry about meaningful things, yeah, I will be an artist, I will take pictures of


The beautiful people and wonderful things, yeah, I don't want to waste it againe, no, no


Wasted again, just another rare bird, buried in the garden, there was a toad there that


Died too, i think just out of remorse for the bird, broken heart's tend to follow suit, and


I buried that toad there in the garden. Everyday I wonder who's having fun. Everyday


I question the same questions, am I made to believe a lie, am I lying to myself, I, I, I, I, I,


Can barely control my mind from splitting at each end, what it could be and what it is, I,


Wouldn't barely know the difference, it's fun to make believe until it gets out of hand, I,


Couldn't remember when, the first time I heard those songs, truth be told, I'll never listen.

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